Sins of the Father
by jojospn
Summary: Sequel to Receive Me Brother. When John leaves following his deal to hunt the YED alone, Dean enlists Sam's help to find their missing father. Little does Sam know that this is the beginning of the end for his apple pie life. Rated M. Slight AU. Takes place around the events of the pilot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm sorry I've been so late with this sequel. For one, my computer has been having some issues. I didn't want to bother writing something, only to have my lovely laptop shut off on me in mid-sentence. Not fun. Second, I almost decided to ditch this story for personal reasons. Recently there has been a cancer diagnosis within my own family. I'm not going to go into personal details, obviously, but it seemed a little too personal to go on with this sequel, even though it involves the aftermath of John's deal and not Dean's personal experiences. But I know that a good number of you have been patiently waiting for this, so I'm going to continue anyway. Needless to say, this will definitely be the last of the cancer fics for me, for a while, at least. Thank you all for your wonderful support these last few years, and your patience. And on a lighter note, I hope all my American friends/followers have a wonderful Thanksgiving!**

**One**

Before, John Winchester had been a relatively patient man.

He'd served in the Marines in 'Nam, and while he had always followed orders like the true soldier he was, he had never been one to jump in, guns blazing, into action. It was how you got your ass killed. When he was back Stateside, the young man had adjusted well, settled down with Mary and had lived the cliched American Dream. Even after Mary's death, and he had been forced into a life of hunting, John had been willing to take his time, make sure he got it right before ganking the monster, before allowing little Dean to be trusted with a shotgun, even before jumping the gun on the identity of his wife's killer. He was a firm believer in the age old motto of getting it right the first time, a fact which resulted in a gruelling twenty plus year wait in identifying the demon with the eerie yellow eyes.

But that had been when he had the time. When he could afford to cross all the "t"s and dot the "i"s. Before he had endured the bitter taste of the demon's kiss when he had sealed his fate a few weeks earlier. One simple action, the act which was supposed to be one of love, lust, gentle intimacy, had very neatly signed his death warrant. He would do it again, in a heartbeat; anything to save his boys, and Dean had literally been on death's door. A diagnosis of liver cancer earlier that spring had left his eldest in a coma, and Sam nearly inconsolable. That one kiss had reversed his son's fate, and had ultimately sealed his. And now, as the days, hours, _minutes_ slipped away, John Winchester realized that he really was, in fact, not as patient as he had once believed himself to be.

It was late October, nearly two months into his one year contract with the devil. Signs of demonic activity were popping up in California: electrical storms, cattle mutilations, the usual MO. Right from the start, John had been unsettled at that fact. He should have been elated that he was finally on the demon's trail, that he could potentially corner the sonofabitch and kill it once and for all, or die trying. It wasn't long before the hunter recognized that the demon wasn't just in California, but in _southern California. _Near Palo Alto, in fact.

Sam. Did the demon know that his son studied at Stanford? Had been on the west coast for about four years now? It could very well be a coincidence. But then, it wouldn't be the first time a demon would mess with one's family. It was practically written in the job description. And then there was the fact about his youngest, how he had been singled out as one of the demon's "special children". As to what that meant, John had no clue. But he had known the significance of his son's involvement for a while now, and while he was not sure which piece he was playing, he seemed to be more than a mere pawn. And now Yellow Eyes was in the area, near the anniversary of Mary's death.

He had sworn that he'd stay away from them. He didn't want his boys to find out about the deal, try to welch his way out of it. Not only could it potentially risk Dean's relapse (and who knew, this time the cancer could return with a greater vengeance), but he just couldn't bear to see his boys again. To see the anger, confusion, hurt in their eyes. He had done what he had to do, he'd saved his son's life, and he would do it again for either of his boys in a heartbeat. But to put on that false bravado, to hide the fear that sometimes would rear its ugly head in the dead of night, would be too much.

But he'd also made a promise: to Mary, to his sons, to himself, that he would finally find the demon who'd murdered his wife, who'd cursed Sam, who'd made him into the hardened man he was now. To protect his boys, especially his youngest, who just couldn't understand how much he truly loved them. And so, John Winchester had crossed the state line in the early hours of October 24th, a little over a week before the anniversary of the fire, determined to finish it once and for all.

XXX

"What do you mean, Dad's on a hunting trip?"

Dean Winchester sighed, staring into the eyes of first his brother, and then the beautiful woman at his side. Jessica Moore looked up at the man she had helped care for weeks earlier, the man who had been one foot in the grave just last summer. The man who now had a look of determination in his green eyes that was downright terrifying. She could stare someone down just as good as the meanest guy at the bar, and Dean actually found himself glancing downward for a moment. He quickly regained his composure, however, the gravity of the matter outweighing any potential discomfort.

"Like I said, he left me a note, said he was on a hunting trip, and not to expect him. I don't just mean a few days, either. I mean..."

"Yeah." Sam sighed, looked at his fiance. "I'm sorry, Jess, but I need you to excuse us." The blonde looked up at him, slightly irritated at being left out. The desire to call him out, to point out that in a year or so she'd be his damn _wife _hit her; it was on the tip of her tongue to say something. But after a moment she nodded, heading out to the bedroom. "There's a good book I've been meaning to finish," she called over her shoulder. For a moment, Sam watched her leave, and a feeling of guilt threatened to call her back into the room, family business be damned. Why should he have to hide this from her? He was going to marry her, for Christs' sakes. If they were keeping secrets of this magnitude even before their wedding... Sam closed his eyes, the beginnings of a stress headache threatening to explode. He knew damn well that this was one secret he was going to have to keep Jess out of the loop from. Sure, it could lead to a massive shit storm down the road, but it was a risk Sam was willing to make. Anything to keep her free from the supernatural world. There was safety in silence.

"That went well," Dean joked once the brothers were safely out of Jessica's earshot. Sam shot him one of his trademark bitchfaces, and the elder Winchester chuckled faintly. Sam finally broke the awkward silence by reaching out his hand. "Ok, Dean. Let's see it."

"Huh?"

"The note." Sam gave a slightly exasperated sigh, and extended his arm further. "You said Dad left you a note. Not exactly something new for him. So I wanna see it." Nodding, Dean reached into his jacket pocket and pulled up a piece of looseleaf, now crumpled from the constant unfolding and refolding of one who has read over something many times. "Yeah, sure. Guess you figured that Dad wrote a little more than 'I'm going on a hunting trip', huh?"

But Sam said nothing. He stood there, reading the neat script his father had written on the page in horror. The note was short, to the point, just like John Winchester himself, but there was a horrible tone of finality in those words, as if he were saying goodbye:

_Boys,_

_I hate leaving you like this. But I'm close to getting whatever killed your mom. This is gonna end soon. Dean, take care of your brother. Not that I need to even ask you that. You've been watchin' Sammy since you were four. And Sam. I know I've never really said it to you, but I'm proud of you, son. I know we always kinda butted heads when you were growing up, but I want you to know it was to keep you safe. You probably don't understand now, but someday, son, you will. Keep your heads up, boys. See you around,_

_Dad._

Was that really their father? Could he have honestly written something like this? Sam stared at the paper in shock, unbelieving that their father could have ever written anything like this. John Winchester had never had a sympathetic bone in his body. Maybe he had talked like that to their mom before the fire, but this... this was _not_ the John Winchester he knew: that either of them knew.

"Yeah, weird, isn't it?"

Sam looked up, saw his brother nodding his head slightly in agreement. "Read that god knows how many times since I found it. It's Dad's handwriting and all..."

"But there's no way Dad could have written something like this."

Dean nodded again. "Definitely. It sounded like something from a chick flick. But definitely not Dad. Something's up, for sure. Not sure what yet, but I have a bad feeling about this."

"Yeah, me too." Sam glanced once again at the note, eyes wandering across the page. Dean was right. This was definitely John Winchester's handwriting. So either someone had forced him to write this, or something terrible had happened. Was he sick? Had he been so all this time, and neither brother had noticed? Of course, Sam's mind had been on his brother's own illness, and would have likely not noticed anything wrong with their dad, but still...

"The good thing is, though, Dad did leave us a clue here."

Sam thought a moment, and then nodded in agreement. "He's chasing the thing that killed mom. He said something about it being a demon."

"And demons tend to leave a pretty obvious paper trail behind 'em."

"And the only thing that sounded like Dad was when he mentioned that he had a lead on what killed Mom. So he's gonna be hunting it down. Making it easy for you to track down."

"Yeah, about that..."

Sam's eyes suddenly narrowed. Dean wasn't seriously suggesting he go with him, right? Just drop everything he had worked for and just go with him? No. It wasn't happening. Especially now when his life was finally getting back to normal.

"Dean, you know I can't go with you, right? I'm going back to school. I'm getting married. I said I left the life, and I meant it."

"Sam. I need your help, man. Dad could be in trouble, could need our help. We can't just abandon him like this."

"Like he abandoned you when you were sick."

Dean froze, eyes narrowed. A look of pure anger flashed across his face, one Sam had rarely seen growing up unless directed on one of the creatures he hunted. To Sam's surprise, his brother grabbed at the collar of his shirt, pinning him to the wall. "Don't you _dare_ pull that card, Sam," he hissed, green eyes bright with anger. "He was there in the end. Sure, he wasn't there twenty-four- fucking seven, but in the end, he was there, all right? So don't you _ever _talk like that about Dad, you got me?"

"Why do you always idolize that man, huh? What did he ever do to us, to _you,_ other than train us to be soldiers in his war? It's nothing but revenge, man." For a moment, Dean looked as if he were about to punch him. But a moment later, he relaxed his grip on his brother and leaned against the wall beside him. "Look man, I get it," he admitted. "You two didn't exactly see eye to eye. But this is Dad we're talking about. He could be hurt, or worse. And we have a chance to do something about it. And yeah, I get it if you want to stay here with Jess. Have that apple pie life or whatever. But he's our family, Sam. We can't just ditch him."

Sam opened his mouth in protest, once again about to remind Dean of how their father had been almost too little, too late when he had been on death's door. But after a moment, he simply nodded his head. "I can help you research," he finally conceded. "But that's about it. I can't involve Jess in this shit, Dean. I love her and I'm not about to risk her life when Dad's probably fine anyways."

"You don't really believe that, Sam," Dean mumbled. But he nodded his agreement, relishing in this small victory. If he could convince his brother to research what was going on, that was a small step into his ultimate goal: for Sam to join him on the hunt for their dad. That would likely prove to be tough, if not next to impossible, but it was a start at least. He grinned as he watched his brother pull out his laptop, firing up the device, and helped himself to the kitchen for a beer. It felt good to finally be able to enjoy one, his cancer diagnosis having preventing him from indulging. Grabbing one for his brother, Dean popped the top and downed a generous swig before handing one to his brother. "Gonna be a long night, Sammy," he said, pulling up a chair. "We've got work to do."


	2. Chapter 2

Paste your docum

**First of all, I am ashamed as of how late this update has been. I have had massive computer issues (needed a total clean out and had to wait for the money to do that) plus I have had some personal issues which made this sequel a little hard to write. After writing the prequel, a cancer fic, someone within my family was diagnosed, and since, died, of a cancer similar to that of Dean's (only in this case it was the kidney and not the liver). Needless to say, writing the sequel has been very trying. Thank you so much for your patience and I hope you enjoy!**

**Chapter Two**

"Hey, Dean. Check this out."

Dean looked up from his text, rubbing his tired eyes. He'd never been one for research, and he could definitely not pull off the hours of time Sam spent behind the computer or nose deep in a book, even when he was sleep deprived. It was long past lunch, and the majority of the library's patrons had left for a quick bite. Stretching and taking of sip of long cold coffee, Dean leaned against the oak table to see what his brother had discovered.

"We know that we've been seeing a pattern of demonic activity in the state," Sam began, scooting closer to his brother with the newspaper. "Cattle mutilations, weird weather patterns, the usual MO." Dean nodded, looking impatient, and Sam rolled his eyes, continuing. "Tornadoes on the west coast, sudden drought in the middle of October, that kind of thing."

"Sounds rather demonic, but we already knew that, Sam." The younger Winchester nodded in agreement, and continued. "But there's more to it. Look." He pushed the paper aside, pointing to a weather map." The signs are initially in the eastern part of the state, closer to the Nevada border. And there's usually a rest period between. Two, sometimes three weeks. But lately, the omens are moving west. And the further to the coast, the faster the frequency of this demon. Whatever it wants, it's increasing in intensity. And if you follow the pattern…." Sam pulled a text towards him and followed traced the pathway with the tip of his pen, tapping the epicenter rather grimly. "The demon's on the way here, Dean."

"You sure?" Sam nodded, and Dean noticed the worry in his hazel eyes. "It's almost the 2nd, Dean, and that thing that killed Mom is heading this way…"

"But you can't be sure it wants you. California's a huge state, and Palo Alto is a fairly large city." But Dean knew that any words of comfort would, for the first time in years, fall on deaf ears. Sure, Dean Winchester was no Rhodes scholar, had passed high school only with a GED, but rarely did his gut feelings fail him. And he was terribly afraid that Sam's hypothesis was a correct one.

"So, we take some precautions. Salt and ward the shit out of your apartment. Who cares if Jess questions you," at Sam's rather rueful glance, "she's gonna find out sooner or later if you marry her. May as well be now. I promise, Sam, we're gonna find Dad, and we're gonna gank the sonofabitch who killed Mom." Sam nodded, and Dean smiled, patting his brother on the shoulder. "Good. Not let's blow this place and get something to eat. I'm starving."

XXX

"Um, what exactly are you doing, Dean?"

Jessica was standing in the open door of the bathroom, watching as Dean poured a generous amount of salt on the window sill. For a moment, he ignored her, concentrating on ensuring a thick, even layer of the condiment along the ledge. A moment later, satisfied with the result, he closed the tab on the salt box and turned to his brother's fiancée. "Protection."

"I'm sorry, but I don't see how you wasting table salt is really going to protect me."

"Salt's a purifier. Keeps all the dark shit out. Demons, spirits, that sort of thing."

Jess nodded her head, but still looked confused. "How much did Sammy tell you, Jessica?"

"Just that some demon who killed your mother might be heading this way." She tried to brush it off, act casual, but Dean could tell that the young woman was worried. "He said something about this stuff, but I kind of tuned out after the whole homicidal demon bit."

Dean nodded in understanding. "Yeah, it's kinda hard to believe, huh?"

"Uh, maybe just a little." But Jess was smiling faintly, and Dean retuned it with a small grin of his own. Again, he realized just how lucky his younger brother was to have a woman as great as Jessica Moore. While some may have completely lost their cool at the news that the supernatural really did exist, Jess seemed to be handling the situation quite well. She was frightened, and rightfully so. To dismiss the truth as hogwash, or deny it, could be a matter of life and death. Hysterics were also dangerous; on a few occasions Dean had nearly been hurt badly, even killed, by a civilian who had totally lost control.

"This stuff needs to be around any area where a demon could come in. Doorframes, window sills. Plus we need to draw some of these around here too. It's called a devil's trap." Dean handed Jess a slip of paper with one of the traps carefully drawn on it. "Once a demon steps into one of those things, it can't get out. You need to be sneaky, though. No demon's gonna just walk right into one. So we try to hide them under mats, on the ceiling above doors, in invisible ink."

Jess looked down at the image on the sheet, closed her eyes. "This is unbelievable."

"Yeah, well you better believe it, 'cause if Sam's right, this thing is heading this way."

For a moment, the young woman hesitated, and Dean thought that she might finally lose her cool. But a moment later, she looked up, grim determination in her eyes. This was scary as hell, but there was no way she could leave Sam, or even Dean. _For better or for worse, Jess. And this definitely falls under the 'for worse' category._

.

XXX

The demon with the yellow eyes watched from the shadows, a look of contempt on his vessel's face. Not surprisingly, the Winchesters had pinpointed his next move. Were warding Sam's apartment at this very moment. For a moment, he cursed himself for his foolishness. Of course they'd figure it out. They were John Winchester's boys, after all. His trail had been far from obscure. But in retrospect, the demon was actually pleased. It would be far too easy to just drop in unannounced. This would be the perfect opportunity for a little game of cat and mouse. The demon would just have to lure the lovely damsel away from their little love nest. It wouldn't take too much. The girl had to work eventually; while the cost of the older Winchester's cancer treatment had been for the most part covered, the love birds had had other expenses to deal with. It would be then when he'd make his move.

XXX

It was well after midnight when John finally checked in to his latest cheap motel and dropped his duffel on the floor at the foot of his bed. He was exhausted, but knew that there would be little sleep that night. The demon was somewhere in southern California, and he had a good feeling that its next stop would be Palo Alto. And if his suspicions were correct, Sam could very well be in serious trouble. He was still a few hours out of the city limits, and he wanted desperately to continue the drive, but exhaustion was overwhelming, to the point where he'd nearly ditched his truck a few times. Frustrated, John pulled off his boots and collapsed on his bed, willing himself to at least grab an hour or two of rest. But as tired as he was, the hunter was unable to sleep. Without fail, just as he would drift off, an image of Mary, burning on the ceiling, would flash before him, followed by those of his sons, lying in pools of their own blood, abdomens slashed by the demon.

On several occasions, he thought of calling his boys, to give them a fair warning of the threat. At one point, he had actually picked up the phone, thumb posed above the send button. Eventually, he decided against the idea. His deal would be coming due sooner than John would care to admit, and there was no way his sons were going to learn the truth; they'd only try to come up with a plan to break the deal, and that was out of the question. As soon as either one of them broke the contract, he'd be in Hell in his stead. But, in all honesty, he also couldn't bear to see his sons one last time. It would be too much for him to handle, enough to perhaps even make him try to come up with some last minute stay of execution. And then _both_ of his boys would be downstairs. Not happening. With a sigh, John tossed the phone on his night stand, burying his face in the pillow. His boys were smart; he'd raised them well. They'd figure out what John had already discovered, right?

Finally, just before dawn, he slipped into a restless sleep. And when he finally awakened after only a few hours, John Winchester was once again on the road.

ent here...


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

The first rays of morning sunshine were peeking through the blinds when Jess awakened beside her fiancé. Slowly she sat up, rubbing the tension from her neck as she stole a glance at the empty spot on the bed where Sam should have been sleeping. No surprise that he was up already; he'd always been an early riser, and considering the stress he was going through, he'd probably already been awake for hours. Sighing, Jess pulled aside her blankets, grabbed her robe, and made her way to the kitchen.

Sure enough, Sam and Dean were already awake, each nursing mugs of coffee and looking as if they'd hadn't had a solid night's rest in years. Jess noted that, for all his bravado, Dean looked nearly as bad as he had when he'd first arrived months earlier, when he'd finally admitted he had cancer. _And this is how they grew up,_ she thought sadly, watching as the two men in her life read through newspapers, texts. Sam was scrolling through an article on his laptop, occasionally sipping from his mug of now lukewarm coffee before returning to his reading. In any other setting it would look as if he were researching for a paper, or scrolling the internet for job opportunities. Not searching for info on demons. Once again, she felt a pang of pity for the pair. The night before, after dropping the bombshell that, for the most part, the supernatural crap she'd seen in cheesy horror movies was real, Sam had confided in the shitty childhood he and Dean had had. Sitting on the edge of their bed, Jess wiped the moisture from her eyes as the man she loved shared of how his mom had really died. She'd known Mary Winchester had died in a house fire, but not much else. She'd shuddered in spite of herself to hear of how she'd been pinned to the ceiling, already dying slowly from the slash across her abdomen, before bursting into flame. She'd heard of how Sam's dad had raised his boys to hunt monsters, and how Dean had shielded his little brother from the truth until he was eight; how the boys were basically raised in crappy motels in all corners of the United States while John was away on hunts, and how money had gotten tight at least once a month. She'd nearly wept to hear of the many occasions Dean would go hungry so that Sam would have something to eat. Jess had felt overwhelmed with gratitude, and an even deeper respect and love for her brother-in-law.

When Sam had finally finished, Jess had been openly crying. Slowly, she drew him in for a hug, massaging the tension from his shoulders as warm, salty tears gently dampened his button down. And that night, when the hours slipped away without sleep, she was haunted by images of a little, curly haired boy eating a peanut butter sandwich from the last slices of stale bread while his older brother spooned some of the remaining spread from the nearly empty jar. Hours later, when finally sheer exhaustion led her into fitful sleep, she dreamed of fire, blood, and that same little curly haired boy, sitting alone, huddled in blankets, surrounded by the very things which killed his mother.

"Morning."

Dean's gravelly voice snapped Jess back to reality. Yawning, the young woman returned the greeting with the same lack of enthusiasm and headed for the cupboard for a mug. "You guys been awake long?" she asked, reaching for the carafe and pouring what little was left into her cup.

"Couple hours."

Jess nodded, leaning against the cupboard as she sipped her coffee and made a slight face. The stuff was disgusting, obviously at least a few hours old. But it was hot and caffeinated, so she sipped her drink and watched as her men continued to research. "Find anything?"

"No, not really," Sam replied, pushing his chair back and stretching. "In fact, there seems to be a lull in demonic activity. The calm before the storm, that kinda thing. I have a really bad feeling the demon knows we're on to him."

"You think it's laying low?"

Sam sighed. "Looks like."

"Great. Just fucking peachy." The Winchesters stared at her, surprised by how just like Dean she had sounded there, but Jess ignored them. "So, what do you suggest? Go back to normal? Hope the thing's gone?"

The brothers exchanged glances and Jessica sighed. "Spill it, boys. I just found out not twenty-four hours earlier that monsters are real and that my fiancé has been hunting them for practically all his life. Bring it."

Dean cleared his throat, obviously looking uncomfortable. "Um, Jess, these guys are really patient. If they want their guy, they will do whatever it takes to get it. Not to mention it's, well…" Jess nodded, knowing full well what Dean was about to say. November 2nd was a few days away. The anniversary of their mother's death. Which meant…

"Oh." She looked down at her barely touched coffee, no longer interested in finishing it. "So we think you should kinda lay low for a few days. At least until after the 2nd."

"Dean, I can't just stay here. I have to work tonight."

"Call in sick."

"Tell that to my boss. He's a hard ass as it is and I already used up my sick leave when I had the flu last month."

"Jess…"

"I can't just drop everything, you know. I have a life. And I refuse to let this demon or whatever the hell it is keep me from living it, ok? I'm going to work tonight."

"You don't get it, Jessica! This thing is very dangerous! It killed my mother, not to mention god knows how many others. If it finds you, it will kill you because you're connected to us! So get off your fucking high horse for just one goddamned minute and understand that we are trying to save your ass!" For a minute, Jessica stared at Dean, overwhelmed with anger. How dare he talk to her like that! At the other end of the room, Dean was also seeing red, frustrated by how little Jessica seemed to be taking the situation seriously. And beside him, Sam was struggling between the need to punch his brother in the face for the way he had yelled at her and shaking Jess for being so stubborn and hopelessly naïve.

After a few tense moments, Dean looked down, obviously embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he muttered. "It's just that this is a very dangerous situation, and it needs to be taken seriously. I get that you have a life, but if that demon lays so much as a finger on you, I'd never forgive myself." At that, Jess visibly softened, her own anger under control. "I understand," she said softly. "I get that you care for me, need to protect me. But you have to realize that I just can't drop everything on a dime like you can. I have classes, commitments, friends who aren't going to understand when I go off the grid." She sighed, setting her untouched coffee on the counter top. "But I don't really have a choice, don't I?" She looked at Sam, who shook his head sadly. "No, honey, not really. I don't want to do this, either. But it's only for a little while. Until we get the demon."

"I'm sorry we have to do this, Jess," Dean continued gently. Jess nodded, blinking away the tears which threatened to spill. She hated the fact that she was on the verge of bawling like a baby. She wasn't the one with the shitty childhood, after all. What Sam and Dean had gone through growing up was something she wouldn't wish on her worst enemy. What right had she to cry, she who had had the stereotypical perfect American dream type childhood? She'd had the perfect suburban life, with cookouts and trips to summer camp and Saturdays at the mall with her friends. She'd had the huge Thanksgiving dinners and Christmases with the entire clan at her Nannie and Poppy's place. Sam and Dean had not even had birthdays, other than the few Dean had managed to scrounge for his little brother when he was old enough. _Enough with the pity part, Moore. It's only temporary._

"Okay, so what's the plan?"

"We wait here for a few days, see if the demon really is gone, of if it's just a ruse. As soon as it's safe, we'll take you to your parent's place. You said something about them vacationing in Florida, right?" Jess nodded slowly, shuddering at the thought of leaving warm, sunny California for her parent's home in Vermont. "Yeah, they spend the winter there. Have their own condo."

"Perfect. We can ward the place and everything without having to worry."

Jessica sighed, listening as the Winchester brothers began making plans for their cross country trip to Fairfax. She had her own preparations to do for this new so called adventure: she had to somehow get a leave of absence from work or, with any luck, arrange for a transfer. Demon or now, there was no way Jessica Moore was going to sit on her ass doing absolutely nothing for god knows how long. She had to withdraw from her semester at Stanford, pack up the apartment. The wedding would have to be postponed. Granted, Sam had proposed only a month earlier, but Jess, in all the excitement of the event, had already booked the venue for the ceremony and reception. The odds were (though it was possible it was only wishful thinking) that this mess would be over long before the date, but Sam had told her gently the night before that it would be best to put the wedding plans on hold for a bit. Swallowing the lump forming beneath her throat, Jess put on a brave face. It was by now long past sunrise, and she had a feeling her boys were hungry. Wiping her eyes on final time with the back of her sleeve, Jessica Moore rummaged through the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs, bacon, and pancake fixings. _Well, Jess. This looks like your new life. Better get used to it._

XXX

Lucy Barlow looked at the man before her, trying to fight the panic as she stood pinned to the wall of her apartment. The man with the strange, yellow eyes stood a few feet ahead of her, toying with the blade in his hand. "Lucy, Lucy, Lucy," he tisked, slowly walking in her direction. "I thought we had a deal. You tell me where the Moore girl is, and you get that scholarship to Oxford you've been pining for." Terrified, Lucy stared at the stranger, unable to move. She hadn't really believed the man when he'd approached her with his bargain. Sure, she'd been dying to attend the prestigious institution from the moment she'd first dreamed of becoming a professor of ancient history back in the eleventh grade. But she hadn't really believed the man would actually hurt Jessica Moore. If anything, Lucy had assumed he was a relative of hers, long out of touch and looking to reconnect. Now, staring into those horrific, pale yellow eyes, Lucy Barlow was terrified not only for her life, but of her friend's.

The man was now visibly impatient. "We had a deal," he sneered. You tell me where Jessica Moore is, and I just might let you live. You don't? I'll make sure you're awake to feel the guts slowly spill onto the floor." As if to prove a point, the stranger gently pointed the tip of his blade just above the waist of her jeans. Fighting the urge to scream, Lucy winced at the cold steel against her bare stomach, the blade slightly cutting into her skin as he drew it upwards, sliding it up to gently press against the edge of her white knit crop top. "So what's it gonna be, sweetheart?"

"Vermont," she gasped, trembling in terror. "She grew up in Fairfax. Said something about her parents spending the winters down south. Please, don't kill me." The demon drew the knife away, smiling slightly. "Good girl."


End file.
